


The Care and Keeping of Spies

by StripedSunhat



Series: Single Father Klaus [13]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Family Dynamics, Gen, Parenthood, Pre-Canon, Spies, Why Sparks need therapy, the trials of having a teenager and an empire at the same time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 11:11:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18151103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripedSunhat/pseuds/StripedSunhat
Summary: Gil wants a spy.  He promises to clean up after it and walk it around in circles and feed it false information every day.Klaus does not approve.





	The Care and Keeping of Spies

**Author's Note:**

> And this is why I don't post any multichapter anything until I have it at least mostly finished. Because vanishing writer syndrome is very real and never fun for readers.

“Father I think you should give me a spy.” Years of parenthood had caused Klaus to grow acclimatized to conversations started with non-sequitors. He glanced up to see Gil standing in front of his desk, hands tucked neatly behind his back in the pose he only used when he wanted something and he thought playing the dutiful son would get him it. “I’ve proven myself more than capable. I’d be able to manage one with no foreseeable problems and if there were any unforeseen complications I would of course come straight to you at once. I already know the official communication protocols and the secret communication protocols.” Had Gil memorized this? “I am also looped into the stream of sanctioned lies so I’m consistently up to date on the current misinformation.” Klaus believed he had. “Furthermore it would help me expand on certain skill sets that I’ve already begun cultivating but require practical experience to truly hone. So really not only would this be a good idea for me, personally; it would benefit the empire as a whole.”

Klaus leaned back and studied his son. Gil was getting a lot better at hiding his nerves. He was far less fidgety than he used to be. Not perfect, but definitely an improvement. Then he turned his attention to Gil’s actual request. Despite how ridiculous he was being he did have a fair point. The managing and oversight of spies was something Gil would have to be ready for and it was definitely not something you just threw someone headfirst into. Not unless you wanted someone to end up covered in melted tar and sequins. However it did leave one rather important question unanswered.

“And who exactly do you want to spy on?”

Gil blinked, hands falling loosely to his sides. “Huh?” he asked dumbly, all trace of carefully concocted maturity disappearing. “Oh, Not that kind of spy. I meant the ones other people send that you pretend not to know about and feed false information to. I want to be put in charge of one of them.”

Well that was a different matter entirely. “No.”

“What! Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not a real answer Father.”

“Of course it is.”

Gil threw his hands up in the air. “Oh come on!”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you Gil.”

“It’s just that you don’t trust me with a spy,” Gil said folding his arms with a pout.

“I’m glad to see you understand.” Klaus began sorting through his reports only to have Gil’s hand come down on top of them.

“You gave Boris charge of Vonnegut and you only picked him up a month and a half ago!”

“Vonnegut is superficially in charge of Boris. And more to the point he believes he’s actually in charge. That’s not about trust it’s about expediency.”

“I’m expedient!”

“Gil. No.”

“But –”

“It’s final. Making a scene isn’t going to do anything.” To prove the point, Klaus picked his reports back up and resumed reading. “Do remember to shut the door on your way out.” Gil slammed the door to knock one of the paintings off the wall.

* * *

Gil pouted for the next three days, which honestly he was a bit too old to do any more. Then he fell suspiciously silent on the subject. That was actually worse. It meant Gil was _planning_ something.

Sure enough a week and a half later Gil showed up in Klaus’s office door. “So,” he began, far too casually to be anything resembling real. “Have you by any chance thought any more about me getting a spy?”

“No Gil.”

“No you haven’t thought about it?”

“No you aren’t getting one.”

Gil scowled and Klaus fully expected him to start pouting again. Instead he visibly reined himself in, blowing his bangs from his eyes in an annoyed puff. “I know your first instinct is to protect me.” First, last, every single one in between. Not that Gil needed to know that. “I just thought that maybe after having some time to let the idea sink in you might have changed your mind.”

“Well I have not.”

Gil took another deep, melodramatic breath. “Right,” he said, rounding back towards the door. “Clearly you need more time to think about it.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Klaus called at Gil’s retreating back. “Answer’s still no.”

* * *

 The next day Gil came back.

* * *

 And the day after.

* * *

 And the day after that.

* * *

 By the tenth day in a row of what amounted to Gil constantly asking ‘Can I have a spy now? Can I have a spy now? Can I have a spy _now?_ ’ Klaus resorted to hiding in the seventh floor incubator lab for venomous fusions and sending Gil extra chores in the hope he would be too busy to keep asking. He wasn’t proud of it but he was desperate okay? He did what he had to.

* * *

 After a week of silence Klaus was foolish enough to start believing that was the end of it. Honestly he should know better. Gil had every drop of his mother’s stubbornness.

He’s up to his chin with expense reports, desperately wishing for a distraction or a firelauncher when there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” he said immediately, standing up and rounding his desk. It could be something important; he should give it his full attention. (Please be an assassin. Or someone on fire. Or an assassin on fire.) Instead he got a mousey little minion who was definitely part of the lot he’d selected for their absolute lack of spine ensuring they would never dream of betraying the empire rather than brains.

“Pardon me, Herr Baron,” she stammered uncertainly to the middle of Klaus’s chest before actually registering the fact that he wasn’t sitting down. She squeaked and scuttled backwards into the door jam. The competency of the lower levels was clearly declining. He’d have to fix that.

Oh look! He’d found his distraction.

“One of the students is requesting an audience with you. From the school?” she added, because there were just so many other options for Klaus to be confused by. He was starting to think culling the lower levels might be less a distraction and more a necessity.

“Send them in.”

“Now?”

Klaus took a fortifying breath. “Are they outside waiting?” he asked slowly.

“Yes?”

“Then yes. Now.” Definitely a necessity.

“Of course, Herr Baron.” She fumbled her way halfway out of the door and waved someone over in what Klaus imagined was her version of discrete movement. Gil tripped inside clutching a folder with various papers sticking out haphazardly and bowed – actually bowed – far too deeply to look anything other than ridiculous, almost losing some of his papers as he did so. What in the world was his son doing?

“Thank you, Herr Baron, for taking time away from everything you have to do to see me. I know how incredibly valuable your time is and believe me I am grateful for it.” That was when what Gil was doing clicked in his head. He was acting the part of the charity orphan, acutely aware of the fragility of his place and desperate to prove his worth to his benefactor. It was not a good look for him. “I had hoped to speak to you about the files you so generously gave me permission to look into.” The door clicked shut and Gil blessedly dropped the act, rolling his shoulders back and leaning casually against the office wall.

“I’ve generously given you permission?” Klaus asked, reaching for files still in Gil’s hand. It made an excellent distraction from the unnervingness of Gil’s act and besides his son would hardly have brought them only as a simple prop.

“You gave me access, that’s basically the same thing.” Immediately everything Klaus had given his son access to without meaning to flashed through his mind. Followed shortly by everything Gil pretended he had access to. “Dare I even ask?”

“Relax Father. It’s just basic internal intelligence reports.”

That seemed safe enough. “And what did you find?”

Gil beamed and began spreading the files out over the desk. “So! I’ve sifted through the data and there are currently seventy-two enemy spies on board –” Oh no. “– managed by forty-three different underlings, minions or other subordinates.” He wasn’t. “At least four of them are managing five different spies at once, while juggling full duties elsewhere since you refuse to have any of your official spy network involved in the internal handling of enemy spies.” Gilgamesh was back to the spy thing. “Unauthorized spies – of which there is currently theorized to be at least ten – last an average of three point seven days aboard before being discovered and have broken through as high as level four security protocols.” He was. “This could be reduced by at least fifteen point three eight percent merely by the increase of only two more people to managing of them.” He was and now he had _numbers_. “There are currently twenty-nine spies in a holding pattern that you want to allow on board but you can’t due to lack of trustworthy employees.”

“Gilgamesh. No.”

“What? You need more manpower. I could help with that!”

Klaus glanced down at the papers now strewn across his desk. He picked a few up and paged through them. They were all meticulously researched, incredibly thorough and accurate. In both reporting and conclusions drawn.

It also in absolutely no way whatsoever changed Klaus’s opinion at all.

Now he just had to come up with a way to say no.

Well it looked like Gil’s incredibly unnerving charade could have a purpose other than freaking him out after all.

Klaus gathered up the rest of the papers, leafing through them as he went. Once he had all of them he opened the door and in a voice slightly louder than normal – one meant to be heard – he said, “I’m sorry but I’m afraid that’s all the time I have to speak to you today.”

Gil started to scowl but caught himself before it could form. He couldn’t do that right now, now could he. Not with the ruse he was performing. “Of course, Herr Baron. Thank you ever so much for indulging me with your precious time.”

Klaus held the file out to Gil. “Your report was very informative and well researched but I’m afraid I don’t plan on pursuing this line of research at this time. However I do look forward to seeing what else you continue to produce in other fields. Perhaps your work in biochemical splicing.”

Gil very carefully did not snatch the file out of his hand when he took it back. “I’ll get right on that Herr Baron.” Klaus chose to believe he wasn’t lying through his teeth.

* * *

 “Hy hear your son es getting hes own spy.” Klaus paused, cup halfway to his lips. Zog continued sipping contentedly from his own cup.

“Gud for hem,” Goomblast said. “A first spy es such a beg moment en a boy’s life. Eet’s such un important bond. Someting dat says vith hyu.”

Klaus very carefully set his cup down. He should have known. A social call with the jäger generals wasn’t actually a social call. It was a trap. He’d let himself be lured in by the thought of actually good tea. Bad move. Very bad move.

“Hy remember vhen master Bill and master Barry got their first spies. Dey vere so happy.”

“Hy remember dat. Et was such a great day. Dey were so excited, veren’t dey?”

“Et’s so nice to see Gil starting in on dat journey. Hyu must be so proud.”

“I’m afraid there’s been something of a misunderstanding.”

“Vot?”

“Gilgamesh isn’t getting a spy.”

“Vhy not?”

“Hy know et’s hard to admit but Gil es growing up. Et’s time he started handling beegger responsibilities.”

“He already has plenty of responsibilities already.”

Zog frowned. “Dat’s too bed. Hee’d be gud at et.”

“Well either way he’s not getting a spy any time soon. Now, thank you for the tea but I have to get back to the empire.”

~

Klaus did not get out to ambush Gil. That would be underhanded and cheep and unlike his son he didn’t stop that low. He did however take a somewhat circuitous route back from the generals’ quarters that just happened to take him past the lab Gil’s been using the most often recently. And he might take a moment to stop and stretch on the way. The fact that he did so in front of the lab door was beside the fact.

The door opened and Gil walked out still fiddling with something. Whatever it was it was making a very annoying high-pitched whistling that Gil didn’t seem bothered by at all. In fact he seemed to be whistling in tune with the thing. Distracted by his tinkering he didn’t notice Klaus until he literally bumped into his chest. He bounced backwards and the screwdriver he’d been holding flew out of his hand, rolling away under a table.

“Gilgamesh.” Gil’s eyes widened and his face went at least two shades paler.

“Father! Um, hi!” The whistling from his machine got louder. Gil glanced down at it. It kept getting even louder. Gil slammed the hand holding it against the wall. The whistle cut out with a sick crunch of gears. Gil glanced over at Klaus. “Um. I’ll just fix that later.”

Klaus eyed the now destroyed pile of metal before deciding it was not worth the distraction. “I just had tea with the jäger generals.”

“O… kay?”

“They seemed to be under the impression that you were getting a spy soon.”

Gil perked back up. “Really? You changed your mind? That’s great! When –”

“I have not. Gilgamesh, have you been spreading false rumors to my generals in hopes that it might somehow convince me to get you a spy?”

“Of course not, Father.”

“Then how do you think they came up with such an idea?”

“I don’t know, they probably heard I wanted one and assumed you’d said yes. I can’t help it if they think it’s obvious I should have a spy.”

Klaus took a step forward. “Cut it out.”

“I didn’t do anything! It’s not my fault if your generals, in their capacity as intelligent, military leaders think I deserve a spy. Keeping their ear to the ground is part of their job. Your other human generals are probably just as informed as them.”

Klaus glared at his son. He leaned menacingly into his space until Gil was forced to lean back. “Cut. It. Out.” Without waiting for confirmation he turned and stalked away.

* * *

 “What’s the big deal about me getting a spy anyway?” Gil asked from his spot at Klaus’s desk where he’d been literally lying in wait because apparently his son took ‘cut it out’ to mean ‘ambush Klaus with the issue at the first opportunity’.

“A foreign intelligence agent is not a toy Gil. They’re a living creature. It’s a long commitment, not something you can just pick up and put down when you feel like it.”

“I wouldn’t! You know me, Father! I’m responsible enough to handle a spy.”

“You don’t know that. Spies demand constant attention. They’re unpredictable and messy. Not to mention dangerous.”

“Svetlana was hired to steal a funnel cake recipe.”

“That recipe has been a secret of our family’s household for countless generations.”

“Three of the kitchen staff made it up last year while drunk,” Gil said leveling him with a look.

Dammit. “Yes, well, that’s beside the point.”

“You can’t just –”

“Herr Baron!” Someone yelled, pounding frantically on the door. “You’re needed down in the lab K-9 as soon as possible!”

“I’ll come now! I’m sorry Gilgamesh, it seems I’m needed elsewhere. We can continue this discussion some other time.”

“Not over!” Gil yelled after him as he left.

“I’m sorry, can’t hear you!” Klaus called back, not even breaking his stride. The messenger walking with him side-eyed him apprehensively but was apparently too intimidated by Klaus to say anything.

* * *

 “Research has shown that it’s an important developmental milestone for children my age to be given increasingly important tasks to be in charge of, such as, oh I don’t know, managing spies for a completely random example. It helps foster a feeling of personal responsibility and a sense of self-worth all while grooming their command potential in order to be assertive and effective leaders when they grow up.”

Klaus was sure there was a response to that. He was still too preoccupied by the massive pile of psychology books Gil had brought with him. “Where did you even _find_ all of those?”

* * *

 “You’re always telling me I need to work on my lying skills.”

“And you think the best way to do so is on enemy spies?”

“Why not?”

“Let me rephrase that. You are not practicing your lying skills on enemy spies.”

“How else am I supposed to improve?”

“You have friends. Lie to them.”

“I already am, remember, Father?”

“Then why aren’t you better at it?”

* * *

 “Having a spy would be excellent cover.”

“Cover.”

“I already have free run of places a student shouldn’t. People have already begun to notice. It’s only a matter of time until more do.”

“I’m honestly not sure if you’re trying to convince me you deserve a spy or get me to ban you from half the airship.”

* * *

 “You know really if you think about it a spy –”

“Stop!” Klaus yelled. “Just. Stop.” He massaged his temples as if that would somehow help his never-ending headache more than it had the last twenty times he tried it. “If I let you help manage a spy will you _stop. Asking?_ ”

“Wh– Really?”

“I’m already regretting this don’t make me change my mind.”

“I won’t.” Gil was beaming like a complete fool and part of Klaus not actively convinced this was a horrible idea was ridiculously pleased at the mere sight of his son so happy. “Thank you Father.”

“This is not me giving you a spy. Just to be clear I have not changed my mind about you getting your own spy.”

“Of course not,” Gil agreed, still grinning like an idiot.

“Whatever spy I assign to you, you will not be dealing with them directly. I will be giving actual authority over the spy to one of my underlings. Any move or change in handling you want to implement will go through them. Furthermore they will be able to halt or disregard your instructions at any point if they feel you are making the wrong choice. If you truly feel they are being unreasonable to the point you have to bring it to me you may but keep in mind that managing interpersonal relationships with underlings will be a large and important part of your duties to the empire one day.”

“Of course.” Gil was bouncing on his toes by now. Klaus hadn’t seen him this excited since he gave him that aeronautics lab. (Bad idea in retrospect. _Horrible_ idea. Klaus still didn’t regret it.) “So, um…”

“Give me a few days to get everything sorted out,” Klaus said, already regretting his decision. “Come back Friday I’ll have a spy and a handler all put together for you by then.”

“Thank you Father!” Gil darted forward and hugged him. “I’ll-let-you-get-back-to-work-I’m-sure-you’re-busy-I’ll-see-you-Friday!” He bounded out of the room before Klaus had a chance to recover from the sudden bombardment of affection.

…

He should give his son a spy more often.

* * *

 A few days later Klaus had everything ready to go. All that was left was the information on the spy to Gil. His son all but snatched the file out of his hands. Well someone needed a refresher on basic manners. He’d let it slide this time if only because he was practically vibrating from excitement.

Then Gil reached the third page and stopped. “Really Father?”

“I did tell you it wouldn’t be the flashiest –”

“Not that. Jacob. You assigned _Jacob_ as a handler?”

“And what exactly is wrong with Jacob?”

“He’s ancient Father! And he already has a million other duties because you won’t trust anyone else with them. Just let the man retire in peace before he falls over dead in the command center.”

“Jacob is loyal, intelligent and most importantly trustworthy. He already knows who you really are so he won’t question why a student is being put in charge of a spy. He stays.”

“But –”

“Unless you want to scrap the whole endeavor now. We can do that instead.”

Gil immediately began frantically shaking his head, waving his hands back and forth. “No! Jacob’s fine. I’ll – We’ll make it work.”

“Good. Jacob should be just finishing up some things on level 9 when you want to go talk to him.”

“Yes Father. Thank you Father.” For all his complaints of Klaus’s – very logical and not at all picked because Jacob was the only one of his command he felt even remotely comfortable trusting Gil with – choice Gil was clutching the papers to his chest like he was afraid someone was going to snatch them away and his spy with them.

“Gilgamesh.” Gil’s grip tightened further.

“You have earned this.”

Gil faltered. The grip on the papers relaxed. “R–Right. I won’t let you down.”

Klaus smiled. _I know you won’t. You never do._ “I trust you won’t.”

* * *

 Jacob didn’t actually end up getting sent to the medical wing because of stress but it was a near thing. Look he already knew Gil was right about Jacob needing to retire. The problem was finding someone to replace him. In the meantime he should probably find someone else for Gil.

* * *

 So apparently the problem with handlers who knew Gil was Klaus’s son was that they wouldn’t risk doing a single, solitary thing for fear of something happening to Gil. Usually Klaus would approve of such precautions but there were limits.

He needed to find less paranoid handlers.

* * *

 As it turned out the minions that both knew about Gil and didn’t qualify as paranoid would let Gil do absolutely whatever he wanted.

It took two full days to completely extinguish the clank engine.

* * *

 By this point Gil flipped to the third page automatically. “Really Father?”

“Do you have something to say about my choice? Since all the handlers who already knew about you didn’t work out, we’re trying one who doesn’t. I thought you’d be glad.”

“Boris, Father? Can’t you find some other way to test him? Some way that doesn’t drag me into it?”

“It’s called multitasking son. You’ll need to learn it before you take over.”

“Boris already has his own spy to deal with.”

“Which is how I know he’ll be able to deal with one more. Now shoo I’ve been letting my paperwork pile up and it’s threatening to eat my desk.”

“Father –”

“Unless you want an impromptu lesson in hostile documents.”

“Where did you say Boris was again?”

* * *

 Boris’s reports were rapidly becoming some of his favorites. True they weren’t nearly as entertaining as the ones from some of his more colorful contractors or the odd jäger foot soldier report but with Boris’s he never had to track anyone down for clarification. No Boris’s reports have proven to be clear, focused and detailed while still being concise. After spending the better part of an hour sloughing through one single, _inaccurate_ report on grain production and how it will end up upending the empire’s supply chains Klaus deeply appreciated concise.

Which is why he was concerned with the giant stack of papers suddenly deposited themselves on his desk. “Wha–?”

“My reports for the week, Herr Baron.”

The stack was at least twice as thick as normal. “What is all this?” he asked, already paging through the madness.

“My reports,” Boris repeated. There was a twinge of question in his words, buried under layers of professionalism.

“Why is it so…” He faltered as he hit the last report. “…thick. What is this.”

“My initial report.”

“On Gilgamesh.”

“Yes.” The hint of question had gotten stronger but Boris rallied, tucking all four of his arms neatly behind his back. “I apologize for the length of the report, young Holzfäller is… difficult to accurately pin down.”

“…You thought I gave you this assignment so you could spy on Gilgamesh.”

“Didn’t you?” Boris asked, professional composure finally breaking.

Klaus glanced back down at the file. If it didn’t pose a whole world of serious problems down the line with his more important underlings not trusting Gilgamesh Klaus would be sorely tempted to call this the best way to keep track of Gil he’d ever found. He sighed. “No Mr. Boris, I did not intend for you to spy on Gilgamesh…”

* * *

 “Father I need a new handler,” Gil announced as soon as he entered the room.

“Oh? And what’s wrong with the one you have now exactly?”

“He kicked my spy off the airship.”

Klaus rolled his eyes. Just what about teenagers made them so damn dramatic all the time? He motioned for Gil to sit, waiting until he did so before responding. “Just because your current spy is gone doesn’t mean you’ll no longer have one; we’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s not that Father. I hadn’t figured out who he was supposed to kill yet. And now I’ll never know.”

“I gave you a spy not an assassin.”

“With orders to kill.”

“…what.”

“A spy with orders to kill someone. And authorization to kill anyone else who got in the way.” Gil paused, tilting his head and peering at Klaus. “Did you not know –” Whatever else Gil said was lost; Klaus was already out the door intent _murdering_ someone.

* * *

 “This isn’t working.”

“That’s because they’re trying to fuel it using chickens,” Gil said, eyes still trained on the mess of carefully selected papers in front of him. “Geese would be much more efficient.”

“Not that. I meant your spy.”

“Wait. What?” Gil dropped the papers and shot his head up. “What do you mean?” He scrambled up from his seat and over to Klaus’s side. “Mattan went behind my back?”

“He apparently believed your plans posed a significant enough threat to the security of the empire to inform me of it on the off chance you decided to try anything similar in the future.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I can see what you were aiming to do; it’s not a half-bad idea” – a brilliant one actually but no reason to let Gil get a big head – “but apparently he doesn’t understand it.”

“That’s because he’s an idiot.”

“Quite.” Klaus can see the (unwritten because he might be an idiot, but he still has enough brains to constitute a survival instinct) opinion hidden between the lines that it was more favoritism for an amusing toy than competence that had earned Gil the privileges he had.

“That’s ridiculous.” Gil had by this point fully come around to read over Klaus’s shoulder without him realizing it. “As if you ever handed me anything without me proving to have earned it three times over.”

“Well he is, as you so elegantly put it, an idiot. That still leaves the issue of you needing a new handler for your spy.”

“We could try someone who know who I actually am.”

“We’ve burnt through all of them,” Klaus said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We could try telling one of your advisors who doesn’t know who I am.”

“We’ve attempted that already too. There’s no reason to indulge in it again.”

“What if we didn’t let the handler know who I was?”

“We’ve tried that already too.”

“It worked.”

“Too well I you’ll recall,” Klaus shot back, twisting to get a better view of his son. “They thought _you_ were a spy.”

“I still say I should have been allowed to keep working on that one.”

**“No.”** If and when they finally figured out their contact was actually a triple agent Klaus much preferred the person ending up getting killed _not being his son_.

“Well then who? Everyone who knows about me is either too busy with important stuff for the empire or” – he waved his hand a little helplessly at the report still in Klaus’s hand – “an idiot.”

Klaus put the papers down, turning the problem over in his head.

Giving Gil his own spy was obviously out of the question but there was no one he could pass the handling of the spy over to. They’d burned through all the potentially viable options. Klaus didn’t have time to oversee his own spies let alone add on someone else’s. He glared harder at the report. It was all Mattan’s fault.

And then, the solution hit him.

“Gilgamesh. It’s high time you had a spy of your own.”

“I thought I already… had… one?” Gil said, glancing uncertainly around the room. “Wasn’t that what we’re doing? Trying to find someone to manage the actual personal handling of them?”

“No, I mean one that’s completely your own. No other handlers or go-betweeners.”

Gil’s head shot up. The papers slipped from his hand. “Wh– Really?”

“You said it yourself, you’ve proven yourself three times over; why shouldn’t I trust you with a spy?” Gil still hadn’t moved, eyes wide and laser-focused on Klaus. “Now, bear in mind that they wouldn’t be the most exciting or dangerous spy. I imagine you’ll hardly find them impressive –”

“No! Gil cut in, tripping over his own feet. “I mean – yes! I mean – I’m sure they’ll be perfect. Thank you Father.”

* * *

 “I cannot believe you!”

“No please do come in. Sit down, stay a while it’s not like I ever have anything important to do.” Gil didn’t pay Klaus any attention, slamming his hands onto his desk and leaning over it.

“Saveliy. Lagunov.”

“Yes? And? You spend months and months begging me for a spy and when I finally give you one you get bored with him in less than two weeks? Honestly Gil you need to show a little more responsibility. When you say you’re going to do something you need to follow through on it.”

“Oh don’t even give me that,” Gil snarled, leaning over against the desk. Well it looked like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed and decided to share his bad mood with everyone else in the most melodramatic way possible.

“I know Lady Faina isn’t the most important person in the world but just because he’s not some big, fancy person’s spy doesn’t mean –”

“Except Lagunov doesn’t work for Lady Faina. He works for you.”

Klaus froze. A cheery little line of profanity ran through his head.

He had not expected his son to find that out quite so quickly. To be perfectly honest he hadn’t expected Gil to ever find out. It was supposed to stay buried forever. Lagunov was supposed to play his part and be gone well before Gil ever thought to go looking. Clearly he’d underestimated his son.

“What were you doing rooting through my personal files?”

“I wasn’t rooting through your files I was rooting through his. Like _you_ taught me to.”

“I see. You were much more… thorough than I thought you’d be.”

Gil’s glare could have bored through solid metal. “Clearly. I can’t believe you would – actually you know what I can. I should have known something was off when you actually offered me a spy of my own.” Anger apparently spent, Gil dropped into the chair on the side of the room. “I guess I’ll just have to find one myself.”

“Excuse me?” Klaus asked, standing up.

Gil snorted and leaned further back in the chair. “Not right now. I’m not dumb enough to drop a spy in the middle of the airship without telling you first. In a few years maybe. Maybe a British one. Z says they sound hilarious when they try to hide their accents.”

Well that settled it. Klaus was never letting Gil off the continent.


End file.
